‘I Stopped Shaving My Body Hair in High School—But Then I Got PCOS’

Ever since hitting puberty, I’ve had a complicated relationship with my body hair. As a pre-teen, I was eager to shave those newly sprung coils under my arms—after all, that’s what my older, pretty cousins did. At the time, I wanted to fit into society’s mold of girlhood, and I assumed shaving my underarms and legs was what I was supposed to do.

But then I started to read about different ideologies regarding women and the beauty standards we are often held to, particularly regarding body hair. I began challenging the idea that in order to be considered feminine I had to have a hairless body. Women growing body hair is a totally natural occurrence, so why isn’t it treated as such? When it came to being a woman, why were there so many rules? Who created them—and how exactly was I benefiting from following them?

I asked the female role models in my life about these beauty standards, and they’d say things like, "just because," or give reasons having to do with what men find attractive and beautiful. "I don’t know any man who would want some unkempt woman," I can recall being told on several occasions by various mother figures in my life—and that made me really mad.

That’s why I stopped shaving my body hair regularly in high school. For me, it was a way to push back against the patriarchal society we live in. Sure, it got annoying fielding questions like, "Is that some type of feminism thing?" from curious friends and family members, but they eventually got over it or learned to ignore it.

Besides, as I got older, I had more important things to think about than my underarms and pubes—like my forever-ballooning waistline. Controlling my weight has been a lifelong battle. I’ve been thin and I’ve been incredibly big, but a few years ago, my body started to change in ways it never had before.

Seemingly overnight, I had an abundance of chin hairs that just wouldn’t go away. At first I didn’t let it bother me, but once it started falling into five o’clock shadow territory, I knew something was wrong. On top of that, I was dealing with a gnarly yeast infection that just wouldn’t go away. I was finally diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS). (Uncontrolled diabetes can lead to an overgrowth of yeast, while PCOS can cause excessive body hair, thanks to an increase in your body making testosterone.)

When it came to my health, I felt like a failure—and I also began to have mixed feelings about the hair on my face. Sometimes I would let it grow a bit, stroking it for comfort during particularly anxious times in my life. Other times, I would freak out, shaving or waxing it, not wanting to be seen as the bearded black lady. I never worried about my hair anywhere else, but when I began growing facial hair, suddenly I didn’t feel feminine at all.

"Who have I become?" I asked myself. When did I ever care about what others thought about my appearance in that way?

In some ways, I was confused about the thoughts and beliefs I'd held for so long. Up until that point, my body hair was a source of pride. It said, “Look at me, I didn’t give into conventional beauty standards.” But then I began thinking about how I wanted to present myself to the world. While a few chin hairs here and there isn’t a cause for alarm, a full-out beard is, since it signified I had PCOS. Besides the health aspect, I deserve to feel attractive and look like whatever I deem to be the best version of myself, and that look doesn’t include an overabundance of facial hair.

So these days, I remove the hair on my face at semi-regular intervals. When it comes to my body hair, sometimes I shave it, and sometimes I don’t—but I am no more or less a woman when I make either choice. What this health journey has taught me is that not shaving my body hair is one way to practice body positivity, but it’s not the only way.

This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io

This commenting section is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page. You may be able to find more information on their web site.

A Part of Hearst Digital Media
Women's Health participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites.